should be relieved she wasn’t facing the feral white wolf.
As her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe, it wasn’t relief that claimed her. The large man who stepped toward her seemed as feral as the wolf she’d expected, and his altered appearance stabbed through her with a jolt of shocked recognition that pinned her in place.
She’d last seen Soren as her beloved companion, the red wolf. Before that, she remembered him as the handsome teenager who had been her loyal friend. They’d grown up together at Bronwal before the curse fell. She’d been an orphan. He’d been one of the legendary Romanov wolves, practically royal but somehow also hers.
The man who stalked her now had a heavy thundercloud brow and a mane of wild red hair around his bearded face. He was well over six feet tall with a muscular build and broad shoulders. He was Soren, but he wasn’t her Soren. He was changed. She backed up several paces until her spine came up against a tree. Its old, solid trunk wouldn’t allow her to retreat any farther.
This man was different, but as he approached she could see the giant wolf she’d known so well in his coloring and his movements. He was large but graceful. He was furious, but his fury was contained. She’d seen the red wolf stand against the Dark Volkhvy in just this way hundreds of times before. She had gloried in this moment, again and again. She had seen him confront and drive off countless marauders intent on stealing his brother’s enchanted blade.
The difference was that she had been by his side then and not the object of his fury.
“You aren’t welcome here, Volkhvy. Why have you come back?” Soren asked.
His voice. His human voice. When she’d heard it last, the world had been so much younger. There hadn’t been airplanes or automobiles. There hadn’t been blue jeans or cell phones. She had believed in loyalty and friendship. They had survived the passage of centuries together until his reaction to the truth had torn them apart. And now he sounded like an angry stranger. His voice was hard and rough. He spoke as if he’d howled alone at the moon far too many times.
“I had to come. There’s something you need to know,” Anna said. Her voice didn’t waver. Her whole body trembled from the shock of seeing him as her adversary, but her voice was as firm as it had to be. So much had changed, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be comfortable with the power in her blood, but she had faced down a curse without cowering. She wouldn’t be timid now when she most needed to stand.
“There’s nothing you have to say that I need to hear,” Soren said. Shock had stabbed her, but it was his sharp words that penetrated the tightness in her chest. With every harsh syllable, he found the tenderness she hid, and the arrows kept coming. Her heart was pierced a thousand times, but she didn’t sink to the ground. In fact, she straightened away from the trunk she’d used as support longer than she should have. She stood, straight and tall. He didn’t need to see her distress at his transformation. She didn’t need to show him her fear or her pain.
Because it was pain that burgeoned outward from her heart like spreading blood from a seeping wound.
His rejection wasn’t new, but seeing it up close was almost more than she could bear.
“There’s something you have to hear. Whether either of us wants to talk to each other or not,” Anna said.
He’d stalked closer and closer to her as she spoke. She refused to step back again. Besides, there was nowhere left to go. She’d left his rejection behind. She’d left to go to her mother’s royal seat on an island off the coast of Scotland, but the sword’s Call had found her. She wouldn’t retreat anymore. There was no point. She couldn’t run away from this or him. She had to face it.
Anna forced air in and out of her lungs. She firmed her resolve and lowered her eyes to her gloves. Carefully, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, she straightened the shaft of the one she had begun to pull off. She smoothed the black leather back up her forearm and into place. As she smoothed, she tamped down the power she’d been prepared to summon from the Ether if she’d had to. Her control felt too tenuous. Her fear burgeoned as she wondered if she was already becoming too like her mother. Her hood had fallen back. The rising mist moistened the dark brown curls around her face.
She’d worn Soren’s cap once. She’d worn it for a long time. She’d saved it for him, but now his head was bare.
He was a full-grown man who hadn’t needed her to save a boy’s cap after all.
Soren had stopped several feet away from her. Close enough so that she had to raise her chin when she was finally in control enough to look into his eyes. His face was shadowed in the dark forest and by the unbound waves of his red hair, but she could see the amber of his irises. His gaze narrowed when she boldly met it and searched it for the person she had known.
To no avail.
This Soren Romanov was not her friend or her loyal wolf companion. He was recognizable to her only because she would know him in any form, anywhere. Her soul knew his. Every cell in her body was attuned to every cell in his. The connection that had once saved her was cruel now.
They were enemies.
His pause was more obviously tense than hers. His whole body was stiff and still. He towered over her and held himself in place with an iron will, but he wasn’t calm. He seemed seconds away from the howl that roughened his voice.
“I have no time for you or for talking. My brother hasn’t come home since the curse was lifted. I was as close as I’ve come to luring him home when you came into the woods this morning,” Soren said. “No one at Bronwal wants to see you. Least of all my brothers or me. Especially Lev. You know he’s gone feral. He won’t suffer a witch in our midst. He will see you as the enemy.”
No other arrows were required; her heart was destroyed. There was nothing of that soft organ left. Only its weak ghost kept her alive with shallow beats, only her hardened core of determination kept her on her feet, as it always had. She was a woman honed by a curse. It didn’t matter if he didn’t trust her. It didn’t matter if she barely trusted herself. She still had her feet planted firmly on the ground.
And she had a job to do.
Soren might be her enemy, but she had other friends and loved ones at Bronwal. People who needed her to do the right thing, even if it hurt, to try to protect them and make up for the mistakes her mother had made.
“If the Dark Volkhvy are allowed to keep the emerald sword, peace won’t be possible at Bronwal. A Dark witch might manage to tap into the sword’s ability to enhance and channel the Ether’s energy even more powerfully than a witch can channel the Ether itself. With the sword, a Dark leader might take control of all Volkhvy. Hate me if you must, but know there is a much worse threat at your door. At your brothers’ doors,” Anna said. “Your emerald sword has been taken, and it must be retrieved.”
She had some pride and a healthy bit of self-preservation. She didn’t tell him that the sword’s Call had come for her. She didn’t tell him that by rejecting her, he’d rejected his destined mate. Destiny or not, she disagreed with the sword. There was no way a witch could be the mate of a Romanov wolf. Not after all that had happened. And there was no safe way for her to wield a Romanov sword as a witch. She couldn’t deny her heritage, but that didn’t mean she was going to trust her fledgling power to join with an enchanted object that held that much sway over Soren Romanov’s fate.
The truth was her Volkhvy blood was too
